


Peripheral

by ElloPoppet



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex and Aaron are Tired and Confused but Competent Human Beings, Alexander Hamilton Being an Asshole, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Anxiety Attacks, Brief Negative Self-Talk, Briefly and as a Defense Mechanism, Character Study, Comfort, Confusion, Developing Friendships, Family Dynamics, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Found Family, Friendship, Getting Together, Introspection, Kind Aaron Burr, Law Student Aaron Burr, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of Therapy, Modern Era, Mutual Pining, One Anxiety Attack in the Last Chapter, Orphans, POV Alternating, Professor George Washington, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Thunderstorms, Tropes Sorry, Writer Alexander Hamilton, mentions of childhood trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28234005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElloPoppet/pseuds/ElloPoppet
Summary: Aaron favored tea over coffee. He favored his corner table at the café, the found family he'd built there, and his calm routine.On a warm September afternoon, John brought a friend with him to work.
Relationships: Aaron Burr/Alexander Hamilton, Everyone & Everyone
Comments: 21
Kudos: 72





	1. Aaron

**Author's Note:**

> "I'll never write a coffee shop AU," she said, and then proceeded to write a coffee shop AU featuring the founding fathers & co. The legit founding fathers were problematic as fuck; I'm playing with Lin-canon characters, 100%.
> 
> Someday I'll stop thinking about how absolutely fantastic Leslie Odom Jr. was in Hamilton (holy SHIT getting into a fandom like five years late is goddamn horrible) and I'll be able to get on with my life. However, today is not that day. Today is the day I write a 16k word character study loosely disguised as a story because ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> This has all probably been done to death. There are tropes galore in this thing. My bad.
> 
> Enjoy! (?)
> 
> -EP

Aaron favored tea over coffee. 

According to Angelica, he was the only reason why they kept the round, heavy-looking glass jar on the far side of the counter filled with multi-colored sachets. He was inclined to believe her; he could practically measure how much time he spent at the café by noting how quickly the jar moved toward empty, one sachet at a time, over the course of weeks or months as days passed. 

“It’s a coffee shop, Burr. Would it kill your cheap ass to, oh, I don’t know, order a damn latte?” Thomas liked to ask every now and again, the words tumbling from his lips from behind the counter even as he went through the motions of sticking a mug beneath the hot-water percolator. Aaron knew it didn’t actually bother Thomas, Angelica, or any of the others, the way that he came in and spent very little on tea, because he always shoved a decent amount of money into the tip jar before he left. 

Therefore, Aaron would respond to Thomas’ snark the same way every time. “It’s not about the price tag, Jefferson, difficult as it may be for you to understand.”

Thomas would inevitably roll his eyes, collect Aaron’s $1.76, and hand over the mug of steaming water. They’d all stopped asking Aaron what kind of tea he wanted, choosing instead to allow him free reign over the lone jar. 

Not that it made a difference. Aaron always reached in blindly to pick out a sachet at random before making his way to the far corner table, where he spent hours poring over legal texts; highlighting, typing, or fitting small, cramped definitions onto notecards for studying. 

It’d gone just so for nearly two years, ever since Aaron had stumbled into the hole-in-the wall café as a first semester law student, desperate for an escape from his roommate during their first week of exams. He’d been glad to be rid of the dorm room accommodations from undergrad, had assumed that off campus housing would afford more privacy, more space, and that it wouldn’t matter so much who he was splitting rent with if they lived an entire half-house away from him. He’d learned rather quickly that he was wrong; Samuel Seabury was insufferable, and though Aaron was adept at suffering in silence, it didn’t mean that he had to expose himself to the source. 

Rewind Coffee House was a bit of a haul for Aaron on foot, but he hadn’t known he was heading there that first night, just that he needed to find somewhere to park himself and his books for a few hours without Samuel’s incessant whining in the background. The fact that Aaron had questioned whether or not the café was even open had cinched his decision to step inside; it was quiet, dimly lit, and small, tucked away on the corner beside a large bookstore that housed its own coffee conglomerate inside. (Aaron would come to learn from Peggy later that her and Angelica’s father was the business’ primary initial investor, which had allowed Angelica the breathing room to play with business models in the first few months in order to find what worked, what made it into the successful and profitable café that it was. Not that Aaron would ever question Angelica’s business savvy. Or her...anything. Ever.)

It became his regular haunt after that first night. He’d requested tea; they hadn’t had any, so he’d gotten coffee with extra cream in an attempt to tamp down the bitterness. After making a few repeat appearances over the next week to study for exams, Aaron made the firm decision that this coffee house would be his home-away-from home when, upon approaching the counter to order what was becoming his usual, the second shift barista, Hercules, had held up a glass jar with a barcode sticker still on the side, bright white paper-square tea bags inside.

“We figured that if you were gonna keep coming by, some accommodations could be made,” Hercules said, before flashing a bright grin at Aaron. The thoughtfulness had dislodged something in Aaron’s chest, something that had been stuck between his ribs, for an untold time. Aaron had smiled back, and placed an order for tea. 

By the start of Aaron’s third and final year in law school, he’d witnessed a few staff changes, but the core full time crew had stayed the same. Angelica, Peggy, and Hercules were still there. Thomas Jefferson, who Aaron determined existed solely to look pretty and be a reminder that the coffee house wasn’t actually a perfect fairy tale world, had been there for about a year, and Angelica had recently hired a new part time baker, John Laurens. She'd decided to expand to house-made pastries at the tail-end of Summer and, much to Aaron’s well-masked glee, he’d gotten to assist in the hiring process. It’d involved tiny plates holding even tinier samples from a myriad of bakers being slid beneath his nose for a few weeks while he’d been busy studying, a small reminder that he was as much a fixture there as the rest of them. 

It’d been John’s apple fritter that’d pushed Aaron to gently coax Angelica into the direction of choosing him over a few of the other applicants, and she’d claimed that she was so bowled over by the fact that Aaron had “actually voiced an opinion at all” that it’d been the deciding factor in John’s hiring. And they were all grateful to her for it; John brought with him a new energy, with his broad smile, adorable freckles, and the way he seems to invigorate the customers with his gentle ease and infectious laughter. Even if it had taken a few weeks for Aaron to learn how to make John’s new loudness meld into the white noise of the café, Aaron liked him, and things began to settle back into a calm, balanced routine. 

And then, on a warm September afternoon, John brought a friend with him to work. 

Aaron paid them little mind, absorbed in the process of grading as he was. Being Washington’s TA for the semester was proving to be an invaluable learning experience, but the workload was nearly enough to make Aaron buckle. His own classes, plus being in the perpetual state of preparing for the bar exam after graduation, on top of his apprenticeship at a local law firm had nearly driven him into the ground during the previous semester … but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to work so closely with George Washington. Nobody in their right mind would let the chance to do so slip through their fingers. 

Although, Aaron was beginning to think that he wouldn’t make it to graduation before throwing himself into the river if he had to read one more first-year misinterpretation of the second amendment, _good god_ —

“... and this is Aaron! He doesn’t work here, but he’s kinda like our mascot. Aaron, this is my new roommate, Alex.” 

Aaron looked up from the analytical essay he’d been staring at with glossy eyes when he heard John’s voice, close enough to break through his haze. John was standing by Aaron’s table, shoulder to shoulder with someone else, new and unfamiliar. _Alex_ , Aaron chided himself into recalling. 

“Alexander Hamilton,” the man said with a small bow of his head. And then “So, coffee house mascot. There a story there?”

Aaron didn’t respond immediately, taking in the details of this new person who’d been brought into the fray of his sanctuary. The image of him was hard to pin down; based on the curve of his jaw and the daintiness of his wrists and fingers where they gripped the strap of the messenger bag slung across his chest, Aaron would wager a guess that Alexander’s build was slight, but his body remained hidden beneath a too-large hooded sweatshirt and baggy jeans. While he didn’t appear to be much taller than Aaron, Alexander seemed to tower over him while he stood, taking up Aaron’s entire view. The low lighting of the café made the depths of Alexander’s dark eyes seem interminable, the tired circles beneath them shadowed like bruises against his golden skin. His goatee was neatly trimmed, a juxtaposition to his long, brown hair, which was pulled into a sloppy bun with strands haphazardly escaping here, and there, and everywhere. 

Alexander was a mess. 

Alexander was _beautiful._

The notion stirred something beneath Aaron’s skin, as though awakening an idea that had been resting for a long while. If Aaron was anything, he was pragmatic, logical, predictable. He’d only found himself sincerely interested in someone once before, and Theodosia had been precisely the kind of person who anyone would expect Aaron to be pulled toward. Brilliant, goal oriented, no nonsense but still kindhearted and able to pull out a sense of humor that could leave him reeling. She’s been even-keel, ritualistic, comfortable, symmetrical; Aaron could see from one telling glance that Alexander would be uncontainable and unpredictable, bright burning and severe, like fire. 

Aaron was distinctly aware that he’d been asked a question and had every intention of answering once the uncomfortable pull within his stomach let loose his tongue, but John beat him to the punch. 

“Yeah. Aaron kinda lives here, his roommate’s a real piece of work and this guy here? Aaron’s a _prodigy_ , Alex, but you still can’t pass law school with an annoying roommate, right? Which means we’re lucky enough to see that mug all the time, aww, see that, he almost smiled! So anyway, everyone knows that this is his table, so don’t sit here, he’s one of like three people who drinks tea off the menu, and I’m pretty sure Boss Lady wasn’t joking when she said that he’s the reason I got the job. Also, and this is important, Aaron’s the best person to talk to when Thomas is being an asshole, because he knows that Thomas is an asshole.”

Christ, but John was so incredibly damn _endearing_. Aaron bit back a pleased smile at John’s assessment, glad that John hadn’t chosen to fixate on the history of his undergraduate studies, and opened his mouth to finally take over his own introduction lest John have time to take a breath and keep going. He was again cut off, this time by Alexander. 

“Thomas? The one you brought to the house last week, with the good hair but trash opinions on literally everything … Jefferson, right?” John snorted and nodded, and Alexander looked to Aaron with a new light in his eyes. “Huh. A law student who likes to shit-talk Jefferson. Well, fuck me, I’m always in the market for adding new recruits to the cause.”

It wasn’t said as an invitation, Aaron rationally knew, but that didn’t stop the wriggling in his gut from intensifying that much more. “The cause being?”

Alexander grinned, and Aaron chastised himself for thinking that no matter what the answer, he may be able to be persuaded. _A pretty face is the last thing you need right now and is not enough to warrant distraction. Alexander is a pretty face. Just a pretty face._

“The mission statement of the cause is ambiguous at best as it stands right now. All I know is that it involves pissing off willfully ignorant pricks like Jefferson, and getting you on my side to do it. I haven’t made it to step three yet, but maybe I’ll get there by the end of this conversation.”

“Mm. Just so you know, pissing people off on purpose sounds like just about the last thing I would enjoy doing. You might consider getting to know me better before deciding if I qualify for the cause.”

Alexander’s grin softened into a small curve, less amused and more genuine. “Wow, that sounds like a real hardship, but something tells me that I’ll be able to manage.”

The warmth in Alexander’s voice pushed back against Aaron’s assertion that the man standing before him was ‘just a pretty face.’ Shaking the thought from his head, Aaron finally stood and extended his hand. Alexander took it immediately, his smaller hand disappearing into Aaron’s. His skin was soft, his palm a little sweaty.

“Nice to meet you, Alexander. Aaron Burr.”

Alexander’s brow furrowed. “... Burr?”

Aaron nodded. Alexander released his hand. 

"Aaron Burr,” Alexander repeated, voice flat.

Aaron tilted his head. “Yes? Do you … have we met?”

Alexander’s eyes flickered to the table, to Aaron’s piles of papers and books, his laptop, his folders, the red grading pens. He brought his eyes back up and looked somewhere just to the side of Aaron, over his shoulder. 

“No.” Alexander smiled tightly. “It looks like you have a lot of work to do. Sorry to bother you.” He put his hands on John’s shoulder to push him onward, past Aaron’s table. 

“‘S good to meet you, Burr,” Alexander said as they stepped away, leaving Aaron standing with his arms at his sides, brow furrowed, head tilted, stomach on the floor, confusion making smoke of his thoughts.


	2. Alex

Aaron Burr was a _fucking nuisance_. 

Aaron had been there first. Hell, he’d been there years before John had gotten the job at Rewind, from the sounds of it. Alex knew that if he didn’t want to share a space with Aaron, that he didn’t have to. He could walk with John to work, put in his ear buds and go next door where he could buy the same drink (it was hard to mangle an Americano, it really was) for a few cents _cheaper_ , set up shop and write to his heart’s content. Unhurried, unburdened, and unbothered by the presence of … certain individuals. 

Certain individuals who were always goddamn _around_. 

John worked first shift at the café, four days a week. Aaron was there every Tuesday and Thursday practically all day, but was blessedly absent when John worked the weekends. John worked his second job at random intervals throughout the rest of the week, always second shift, often until the café's closing time of 10:00pm or later. Alex started walking down to the café on those nights, preferring to not be alone whenever possible, and also finding the atmosphere of the coffee shop much more welcoming than hanging around the stockroom of the gas station where John worked a few nights a week. 

Aaron was all but a permanent fixture in the café every week night, as far as Alex could tell.

Regardless, Alex liked Peggy and Hercules, who worked second shift; liked them enough to feel comfortable sliding into a seat to work for a few hours until closing without feeling like a burden, even when John wasn’t around. Sometimes, after sunset and once the evening rush-hour faltered, whoever was working that night would even pull up a chair at Alex’s table and shoot the shit for awhile, if he had his headphones off, or if he didn’t have his bag take up the space of the second chair. 

They were either attentive enough to have learned Alex’s tells fairly quickly, or John had tipped the staff off to the point where they knew when to leave him the hell alone as he worked. Alex appreciated them down to his bones — even Jefferson, as loathe as he was to admit. Jefferson was an annoying little shit, had to be right about everything and always made sure to make some kind of off handed remark to ensure that he’d have something to be right about, but for the most part he made sure that Alex’s coffee stayed topped off and gave him his space. As for Angelica, that woman was a saint, and the only one of them who would pop off at Alex when he was being snippy, only to help him work out syntax or appropriate adjective choices a minute later once he started acting like a rational human being again. 

The only person that Alex hadn’t come to appreciate over the month or so that he’d been frequenting Rewind was Aaron.

Aaron, with his steadfast air of quiet stability and determination, never appearing frazzled when the sheer amount of work he spread across his table was enough to give even Alex pause, or when it was evident that he was managing hours of coursework after just having come from his apprenticeship, tie snug around his throat and loosening as the night wore on. 

Aaron, who managed to skirt being divisive in most conversations that Alex overheard, sidestepping controversial landmines as one might do in a courtroom or when running for office.

Aaron, with his flawless, rich brown skin and those _lips_ that formed rare but brilliant smiles around slightly crooked teeth, smiles that were sometimes wide and other times soft, lopsided every now and again but always bringing small crinkles to the corners of those ink-dark eyes…

Aaron, with imperfections that – instead of reminding Alex of how very human and ordinary he was – only magnetized Alex to him more as time passed. Which was the most infuriating part of it all, seeing as how Alex made it a point to keep his distance, to reverse their poles and do his best to keep the two of them consistently repelled. 

It worked for the first month. At least Alex thought it was working.

The café was tiny; it was a miracle that six small tables fit into the lobby that stretched along the opposite wall from the espresso bar. After their first meeting, Alex operated with intention, always choosing the table farthest away from Aaron’s, even when the other man wasn’t there (unless it was John’s Saturday shift. Alex had it on good authority that Aaron was never around on Saturdays, which had led to Aaron’s christened table becoming Alex’s Saturday Table, a fact which went unspoken by him and everybody else in some silent agreement that he was grateful for). When Aaron was there, Alex made sure to sit facing the opposite direction, unwilling to risk the chance of catching Aaron’s eye over the top of his laptop screen. 

Assuming that Aaron would be looking in his direction, of course. _Which_ , Alex often caught himself thinking, _why would he?_

It wasn't as though they never spoke. It would have been logistically impossible, and neither of them were so horrifically socially crass as to blatantly ignore one another. There were terse nods and quiet ‘hello’s exchanged, sometimes words or sounds of acknowledgements at the end of the night when they left at closing with Peggy or Herc, or when Alex left with John at the end of his shift. 

They were civil with one another. Alex fucking hated it. 

There was so much potential there, simmering beneath the surface; he could feel it every time he allowed his eyes to drift over to Aaron when one of them was standing at the counter or walking around the coffee shop for one reason or another. He saw it in the way that Aaron held himself, tightly coiled and practically reverberating with contained energy, in direct opposition to Alex’s constantly bouncing knee or fingers drumming on the tabletop. Alex was also constantly overhearing Aaron talking to the others; he was obviously devastatingly intelligent, slyly kind in a way that was almost too under-the-radar to notice, and brimming with wit so dry that sometimes Alex would have to muffle his laughter when Aaron’s subtle digs would go over Thomas’ or John’s heads. 

Aaron was crafted to be devastating for Alex, and it took everything within Alex’s willpower to precariously maintain the balance necessary to keep his world aligned. 

Alex had nearly broken about two weeks in. 

He’d been completely engrossed in his latest write-up for work when he’d taken notice of someone looming beside his table. Figuring it was Thomas, he’d waved a hand thoughtlessly, dismissive. 

“Not now. Come back in three paragraphs.”

“That’s an interesting way to measure time. How long might that be?” 

When it was Aaron’s voice that responded, Alex’s fingers had frozen over his keyboard on the next keystroke. He watched a long line of h’s appear on his document before lifting his hands and looking up, finding Aaron standing beside his table with his arms crossed over his chest, having the audacity to look somewhat amused, which was _unfairly adorable._

“Oh! Sorry. I thought you were Jefferson,” Alex said hurriedly. 

Aaron’s lips twitched. “Ah. Well, in that case, borderline rudeness is always excusable.” 

Alex had flushed, then, embarrassed. “Thanks for the forgiveness. To what, ah, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Aaron shrugged. “I’ve been seeing you around a lot. I wanted to stop by and say hello, maybe intrude and ask what it is you’ve been writing?” A pause. “You’re an angry typer.” 

Alex let out a bark of laughter. “Sorry. You’re not the first person to file a noise complaint. I just don’t think my hands can keep up with my thoughts.” Alex held his hands up and wriggled his fingers. Aaron tracked the motion with his eyes. 

“As to what I’m writing, right now it’s a piece compiling public record of city spending over the last four years so that I can essentially rip apart the newest taxation proposal set to hit the ballot in November. This? Work stuff. Yesterday I was being a stereotype and working on the next Great American Novel like most other sleep-deprived twenty-somethings who take up residence in hole-in-the-wall coffee houses, and tomorrow I could decide to work on a series of anonymous blog posts about how corruption has found its way into both our medical and abortion services as well as our government funded and private adoption agencies, leading to higher levels of homelessness, poverty, and children aging out of the system without families.” Alex put his hands in his lap, realizing that he’d been gesticulating without thought. He met Aaron’s wide, unblinking eyes. 

Aaron had cleared his throat. “So you’re a writer.”

Alex grinned. “You’re perceptive, Burr.”

A smile, the kind that was typically reserved for Angelica as far as Alex had noticed, blossomed on Aaron’s face. Small, the whites of his teeth just showing, the kind of smile that made Aaron’s eyes soften at the edges, the kind that made him look younger…

“And you’re obviously in law school,” Alex had said before Aaron could continue the natural flow of the conversation. Because, right; there was a reason why Alex had been devastated to meet Aaron Burr, and _you can’t be distracted by sleepy smiles and sparkling eyes. Not by ‘the prodigy of Princeton college’._ “That’s impressive. But you must be used to people being impressed by you.” The words were flirtatious but the tone was biting, and Alex watched the tone land as intended.

Aaron’s shoulders tightened as he stood a bit straighter, his smile faltering. “It’s no more impressive than what you’re doing,” he’d said slowly, after a beat of silence. “I’m not studying law for the accolades that may come with doing the job.”

“We all do things for the perks, Burr. Why would you be a lawyer if you didn’t want access to everything that being a lawyer gets you?”

Aaron had stared at Alex as though he had asked him the simplest question in the world, something out of an elementary school workbook. “I study law to _study law_. To gain knowledge from others who know it better than I do, so that I can see its flaws and better understand how to fix them. You can’t repair a broken machine without knowing how it works.”

Alex suddenly felt very small with Aaron standing over him. “Ah, so you’re the one. The one golden-hearted, perfectly altruistic lawyer.” If he gnashed his teeth, perhaps Aaron would cower and _I won’t feel so small._

“Alexander?” Aaron had asked instead of admonished, with concern rather than defensiveness. 

“How model-citizen of you. Mommy and Daddy must be so proud,” Alex kept going, kept poking, kept pushing, trying to widen the distance while being aware on some level that his snide comment had served remarkably well to dig and scrape against the inside of his own chest cavity. 

Alex’s words severed any tenuous strand held between the two of them in the moment. Even weeks later, Alex was trying to shake off the image of how Aaron’s face had blanked and shuttered tighter than any fortress. Even when Aaron had spoken before walking away from the table ( _“Happy writing, Alexander.”_ ), he had remained so impassive that Alex hadn’t been able to shake the thought that he’d actually harmed Aaron. 

_You know what words can do to people, you fucker. That’s why you’re being such a dick in the first place,_ Alex reminded himself, pulling himself back to the present and out of the moment from which he’d nearly forgotten that Aaron Burr was a name synonymous not with **intelligent-gorgeous-perfect** , but rather **thief-competition-nemesis**. 

Alex watched over his laptop as Aaron stuck a hand into the glass jar at the end of the bar and plucked out a sachet of tea. He tensed as Aaron stepped past his table.

“Hamilton.” Aaron nodded at him without making eye contact.

“Burr.” Alex returned the greeting, still staring straight ahead. He listened to the sounds of Aaron settling into his table at the back of the shop; his mug tinkling against the tabletop, books being pulled out of his bag, his laptop coming to life, the sound of Aaron’s body shuffling to comfort. 

Alex sighed and went back to typing.


	3. Aaron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say, hearing my beta theorize re: 'What The Fuck Is Alexander's Problem?' has been so entertaining to me. If you're wondering, the next chapter brings clarity :)
> 
> Thanks for reading and thank you for the kudos!
> 
> I hope you enjoy ♥
> 
> -EP

As November drew closer, Aaron’s worry for Alexander grew day by day. 

He chalked it up to the impending election, having gleaned what information he had during their short interaction earlier in the fall. It was the most they’d engaged with one another and it wasn’t nearly enough for Aaron to assume that he knew much of anything about the exhausted writer who powered their coffee shop like a nebulous star formed of pure drive and loud laughter, but it had been enough to know that at least one aspect of Alexander’s work was politically driven. As the midterm elections and ballot proposals became more frequently discussed around the shop by the crew and customers alike, Aaron noticed that Alexander folded into himself more often, pulling out his bulky, noise-canceling headphones and keeping bruised eyes trained on his laptop for hours without allowing them to close or stray.

Aaron’s own semester was taking its toll. Beyond his standard duties as a TA for Washington, he’d been trying to jump on every opportunity to shadow his mentor as much as possible. Washington had served as both a DA and then a judge before retiring and joining the faculty about five years prior and brought with him a wealth of knowledge and networking connections, all of which he was willing to share with Aaron for reasons that Aaron didn’t quite understand, but wasn’t willing to question. 

“There’s something about you, my boy,” Washington had said one night as they pored over student essays in his office, empty containers of Chinese takeout littering the desk between them. “You remind me of, well,  _ me _ , when I was younger. Overcoming what you’ve overcome, the marks that you’ve earned, the sacrifices you’re willing to make, all to practice and better the law? You’ll outpace my legacy in this field, one day. Just keep it up. And toss me that pen, if you would.”

Washington demanded a lot of Aaron’s time, but gave a wealth of his own in return. It was worth the muscle-deep exhaustion and the occasional all-nighter, the tight schedule and the increase in stress. 

Not that Alexander helped in that regard; Aaron wished, how _ badly  _ he wished, that Alexander wasn’t an additional stressor, but that was beyond his control, it would seem. 

The midterm elections were a week out, it was 9:30 pm, and Aaron couldn’t concentrate on grading the stack of tests in front of him because Alexander was nodding off at his laptop three tables away. The café was empty aside from the two of them and Peggy, who was busy washing up for the night, preparing to hit the lights and lock the doors at closing time, which was quickly approaching. Peggy preferred instrumental music, the melancholy guitar and piano melody playing over the speakers likely doing Alexander no favors in his endeavor to stay awake, Aaron mused. Alexander’s back was to him as per usual, and Aaron couldn’t pull his eyes away from the jerky motion of Alexander’s head as it tilted forward before spiking back up every few seconds, the sounds of his typing a jilted staccato rather than the typical fluid, furious beat that Aaron had become accustomed to, to the point where he would hear it in his sleep some nights. 

Aaron had no intention of interfering with Alexander’s plight. In fact, he found himself cheering for sleep to win the tug-of-war; if anyone pushed themselves harder than Aaron, it was Alexander, and even if the other man’s distaste for Aaron was perplexing ( _ hurtful _ , his mind whispered,  _ agonizing _ ), he was part of Aaron’s chosen family within this small, shadowed, tucked-away island of motley people, and he wanted to see Alexander healthy and well. 

Which is why, when Peggy’s eyes found Aaron’s after Alexander let out a small, nearly imperceptible whimper in his state of half-wakefulness, and she made a huffy and very clear ‘well, do something!’ gesture with her head and shoulders, Aaron’s resolve disintegrated.

“Alexander?” Aaron said softly, hand hovering over Alexander’s shoulder for a moment before coming down to rest on the soft material of his hoodie. Aaron expected him to startle, or jump; he wasn’t braced for Alexander to gaze up at him with heavy-lidded eyelids and slightly furrowed brows. 

“Hey, Aaron,” Alexander said softly. 

Aaron’s throat ached.

“You’re falling asleep,” Aaron said. He squeezed Alexander’s shoulder before taking a step back. “Peg’s getting ready to close up. Can I help you gather your things?”

Alexander blinked, eyes bleary, and used his hands to tuck stray hairs behind his ears. “I… I don’t… know?”

Aaron bit the insides of his cheeks to keep from smiling. He reached across Alexander’s front, surprised when Alexander moved out of the way and allowed Aaron to glide his fingers across the mousepad on his laptop. A few clicks later and Aaron moved out of Alexander’s space. 

“At least your work’s saved. I see how you talk to Jefferson if he so much as interrupts you in the middle of a sentence. I can’t imagine what would happen if I stood by and let you face-delete all of your hard work by accident.”

Alexander snorted and dragged a hand across his face. “That’s different. Jefferson’s an asshole.”

“Hm.”  _ And what am I? _

“And you’re,” Alexander started, picking up on the question unasked. “You’re  _ still _ trying to be nice to me.” His shoulders slumped. Aaron didn’t know what to say, and after a few seconds passed they were startled out of the moment by a sudden blanket of silence falling around them, Peggy having turned off the sound system. Alexander closed his laptop and stood to start packing his things away, and Aaron offered him a small, tight lipped smile and a nod of his head before stepping back, intent on cleaning up his own scattered mess. 

“Thanks, Burr,” Alexander said, and though the regression back to the use of his surname stung like a barb, Aaron appreciated the sentiment all the same. He left the coffee shop that night feeling closer to an answer to a problem that floated somewhere above him, undefined and shapeless. 

*

It was the day after the midterm elections, and Alexander came into Rewind with a smile plastered on his face, so alight that Aaron felt the electric shock from across the room when their eyes met. Goosebumps rose on the back of his neck, and he was suddenly more awake than he could remember being in an incredibly long time. 

Aaron allowed himself to openly watch as Alexander, glaringly free of his always-present messenger bag which held his laptop, headphones, and an endless supply of paper and writing utensils, approached the counter, laughed uproariously with Angelica and even Thomas. Aaron gaped when Alexander swiveled, carefree, into some kind of ridiculous little jig with his hips that made Aaron’s mouth go dry. At the end of it all, Thomas handed Alexander a large to-go cup and a mug, steam curling above the rim. 

Aaron kept his eyes trained on the lovely curve of Alexander’s shoulders as he carefully balanced the drinks and started to walk down the length of the bar. Aaron’s stare lingered on the lithe bend of Alexander’s wrist as he dipped his hand into the jar of tea sachets, rooting around until he found just the one he was looking for. Aaron’s heart sped up as Alexander’s sparkling gaze again found his, locking into place, finding his target as he made his way to Aaron’s table.

Without a word, Alexander sat the to-go cup on the empty chair across from Aaron, and used his free hand to move one of Aaron’s textbooks from where it was sitting by Aaron’s half-filled mug of tea. Once a space was cleared, Alexander placed the new mug down on the table, and Aaron raised an eyebrow without thinking; it was filled with what looked like the old coffee/cream mixture he used to order. Light tan, but still steaming as though piping hot instead of luke warm. He watched, transfixed, as Alexander unwrapped the sachet from its light purple wrapper and gently submersed it into the drink, wrapping the attached string around the handle securely. 

“I know you prefer tea to coffee,” Alexander said by way of greeting, “but I also know that you’re having a bitch of a time right now and that you’re being run ragged. This beaut here is called a Lavender London Fog latte. I told Jefferson to only use a half-shot of espresso and to make it extra wet. I promise that’s a lot less salacious than it sounds. It’s not as strong as what I pump myself full of on the daily, but it should give you a little extra oomph.” Alexander shrugged. 

Aaron wanted to run his fingers over the smattering of pink that was creeping into Alexander’s cheeks. 

“That’s … thoughtful of you, Alexander,” Aaron said, his heart a hummingbird in his throat.  _ He bought you a coffee, not an engagement ring _ . “And perceptive. My apprenticeship caseload has been a bit straining.”

Alexander’s eyes widened. “Fuck, you have an apprenticeship too? On top of everything else?”

Aaron shrugged. “It’s only two days a week. I’m managing.” He picked up the mug containing Alexander’s concoction and brought it to his mouth, blowing slightly before taking a sip. The taste was just on the right side of strong, the floral notes of the lavender and Earl Gray chasing away the undercurrent of espresso on Aaron’s tongue. He found himself warmed from the inside. 

“Oh. I — This is wonderful.”

Alexander's flush darkened, but a goofy grin found its way onto his face. “‘M glad.”

Aaron relaxed in his chair, energized by the easiness of their conversation. “How are things for you, now that the election’s passed?”

Alexander rolled his eyes and groaned. “ _ So _ much fuckin’ better! I should be able to get back to some more investigative articles about shit I actually give a damn about instead of trying to play neutral party when I am most certainly  _ not  _ a centrist.” 

Aaron couldn’t help it; he laughed. “You mean you’re not a raging liberal? You had me fooled. I’ve never heard you get into political arguments with Thomas, not once.”

Alexander scoffed. “Not you, now, too! John calls him Thomas. It’s too strange. Makes him seem too much like a person instead of a  _ Republican _ .” He screwed up his face comically, making Aaron laugh again in spite of himself. Alexander’s face relaxed, and he tilted his head, calculating. 

“What?” Aaron asked, taking another sip of his drink. 

“Not to sound all alpha-male chauvinist or anything,” Alexander said, “but you should laugh more. It’s a good look. Nice to hear.”

The hummingbird in Aaron’s throat fluttered its wings harder. He opened his mouth before he knew what was going to come out, and was saved by potentially setting the hummingbird free by the vibration of his phone on the table. 

“I’m sorry,” Aaron said. “I have to—”

“Yeah,” Alexander said, picking up his drink from the empty chair. “Don’t let me keep you.”

“You’re not!” Aaron said hurriedly, not wanting Alexander to leave. He opened his text message from Washington and read quickly; the guest speaker they’d had scheduled for the next class had fallen through; could Aaron come by the office to help call around to find a replacement? “It’s just … the professor I’m assisting this semester is in a bind. Last minute, you know? It looks like I have to go into the university for what’s probably going to be a late night.” Aaron typed out a reply and sighed, slipping the phone into his pocket. 

“You have to go TA right now?” Alexander asked, his tone completely shifted from warm to neutral. 

Aaron nodded and stood, gathering his papers and books and shoving them into his bag. “Yeah. Washington, George Washington? I’m not sure if you’re familiar with him from the work that you do, but he’s a retired judge and had the kind of career I’d kill to have. I’m working for him this semester, and when he calls, you go running.” Aaron paused and looked at Alexander, whose face was morphing into a calculated mask that made Aaron’s stomach twist. “But I’ll be taking my latte with me. Thank you, really.”

“Yeah,” Alexander muttered, “Sure. Go have fun spending the night with your professor.”

His words were ice water down Aaron’s spine. “Alexander, it was nice talking with you, and I’d like to continue our conversation some other time, but you’re being childish. This has to be a priority.” 

Alexander barked out a laugh and shook his head. “What it must feel like to be a priority!” he said, before turning to walk away from the table altogether. “See you around, Burr.”

The hummingbird beat a panicked rhythm, but Aaron swallowed down the lump and went to work.


	4. Alex

Alex’s worlds, precariously balanced to begin with, collided on a Saturday afternoon in late December when Aaron walked into Rewind, fat snowflakes visible for a moment before melting into his shortly cropped hair. 

Alex stopped breathing, and his fingers lost feeling where they were wrapped around his mug. Across the table from him, back facing the door, Alex’s father looked at him with concern. 

“Son, is everything okay?”

_He’s not supposed to be here. It’s Saturday._

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, sorry. It, er, looks like John needs something, I’ll be right back.” Alex stood abruptly and made his way to the end of the counter, where John was busy mixing some kind of batter that Alex would normally get distracted by, with how good it smelled, citrusy and sweet. 

“ _Why is Aaron here?_ ” Alex hissed, snatching John’s attention. John looked perplexed and glanced toward the door, where Aaron was standing second in line. Aaron didn’t seem to notice anything amiss, didn’t seem to notice that his table was taken. How was he to know that Alex sat there every Saturday during John’s shift? _Aaron didn’t come to the café on fucking Saturdays._

“I dunno, man. Why is it…” John trailed, making the decision to leave his question unasked once he fully took in Alex’s glare. “‘Kay. Do you want me to find out?”

Alex groaned. “Yes? Fuck. I mean, I guess, not that it’s gonna do a whole lot of good. He’s gonna see us in like two minutes anyway, unless by the grace of some deity he just gets his tea and leaves.”

John’s magnificent smile lit up his entire face. “His tea and leaves. Ha! Alex, you’re cute.”

Alex growled, and John held his hands up. 

“Fine! God, bitchy today. Go hang with your dad, spend your time, _jesus_.” 

Alex took a deep breath and did as John directed him to do. Alex tried to keep his voice steady and steadfastly ignore the way his dad kept cocking his eyebrow every thirty seconds until Alex’s phone pinged with a text message from John. Alex read it over rapidly, absorbing the information while trying not to laugh at his shitty luck. 

Aaron’s roommate usually spent the weekends at his boyfriend’s house, but this weekend the boyfriend was ‘banned’ by his parents for some reason or another, and therefore they were at Aaron’s. Which, according to John’s text, Aaron found tantamount to “the lowest circle of Hell,” and so he had planned on living at Rewind all weekend, even though the semester had ended the week before?

The question mark belonged to John; Alex knew that Aaron would be studying for the bar exam. He recognized the books and noticed the flashcards scattered about the table, at times finding their way to other surfaces around the café. He knew what prepping for the bar looked like. 

It was only a minute or two after John’s text when Alex noticed Aaron making his way toward the back of the café; Aaron hadn’t even glanced in the direction of his table yet. He snatched his tea bag from the jar and turned, took a few steps forward and lifted his head, registering Alex first. Alex saw the second that Aaron halted with the realization that his table was taken, the split moment of confusion, and then had the air knocked out of his lungs by the small, pleased look that started to illuminate Aaron’s face, as though he were _happy_ to find Alex there, in his space—

“Aaron?”

Aaron’s eyes snapped over to the other side of the table, and Alex had never seen him look so puzzled. 

“Professor? What are you doing here?”

George Washington smiled widely and stood from his chair, moving to sling an easy arm over Aaron’s shoulder to guide him closer to the table. 

Alex’s stomach roiled. 

“This is a wonderful surprise! Alex, this is Aaron Burr, the student I’ve been telling you about, my assistant this last semester. Aaron,” _don’t say it don’t say it don’t tell him I don’t want this_ “this is my son, Alexander.”

_Well, fuck._

To his credit, Aaron didn’t show any outward reaction. “Your son?” His eyes flickered between the two of them. Alex focused on a warped spot on the tabletop. 

“Yes! I believe I’ve spoken about him during classes a time or two, when relevant constitutional matters have been brought to the table for discussion.” Though George remained jovial, Alex couldn’t help but wince.

“...right,” Aaron said, understanding seeping into his voice. “...oh.”

The ‘oh’ was soft, so soft that it garnered Alex’s attention, and when he snapped his head upward, Aaron was looking at him with _that look_ , the look reserved for orphaned, adopted children, and a fire erupted within Alex, fast burning and immediate. 

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Alex snapped. “ _Oh_ .” He mimicked Aaron cruelly. “I don’t need your fucking _pity_ , Burr.”

George’s expression morphed to one of shock. “Alexander!” he admonished, before looking at Aaron. “Do you two know each other?”

“We keep meeting,” Alex hurled in response, before Aaron could say anything. “Maybe I should say yes, though. I mean, I know enough about Burr from you. I know he’s a prodigy, graduated Princeton two years early, early admission into law school, colors within the lines, runs at your beck and call, can do no wrong, has spent more time with you than _I_ have since I’ve moved back to this _goddamn_ city, is carrying on _your fucking legacy_ , what else? Did I miss anything?” Alex was near shouting when he was finished, white-knuckle gripping the edge of the table. 

Both Aaron and George remained stock-still, and their floundering enraged Alex even further. “Yeah, I didn’t think so,” he said, feeling both more in control and lacking any modicum of control. “Aaron Burr.” The name was bitter-sweet smoke on his tongue, and he looked up at Aaron. “I really wanted you to be an asshole, you know? But no. It kind of makes me hate you more, that you’re all … benevolent, and pretty, and _perfect_ . And here I am, what did you call me before? Here I am, acting _childish_ . You’re probably right, but forgive me, I spent plenty of time parentless and I’d like to not have someone else push me away from the only goddamn parent I have left, thank you very much. Fuck, go impress your own parents, Burr, you _selfish prick_.”

George slammed his fist on the table, causing their cups to rattle, and Alex all but jumped out of his chair with how hard he startled. The look of rage on George’s face caused him to shrink down in such a way that he hadn’t since those first few weeks he and George had known each other, when Alex was 17, starving and terrified of everything. 

“Son,” George breathed, “don’t you say another goddamn word until we leave this building. Do you understand me?”

Alex hadn’t wanted pity. He hadn’t even wanted an apology, not from his dad, or not even from Aaron. _Hell, I don’t know what I wanted, but what the fuck did I do to deserve this?_

George looked away from Alex and over to Aaron, who remained standing close by George’s side, still enough and quiet enough that Alex had nearly, over the course of the last few seconds, forgotten that he was there. As George put a hand on Aaron’s shoulder, just before leading him away from the table, Alex managed to take in Aaron’s expression. 

Eyes open and dry, unblinking, looking ahead at nothing. Mouth closed in a tight line. 

Aaron’s bottom lip wobbled. 

Alex sat there, at Aaron’s table, with his eyes closed, the wobble of Aaron’s lip playing on a loop in his mind until his dad came back, alone and looking more tired than pissed. Alex knew better than to say anything, and so, as he did on rare occasion, he waited. 

“I’m sorry you’ve felt neglected since moving back from Jersey,” George said, voice strong and steady. “I wish you would have said something.” 

Alex opened his mouth to rebuke; George held up a hand. 

“I want you to respect what I asked for, Alex: let me speak. Please. You’ve dug yourself into a hole and I don’t want you to keep digging.”

Alex scowled but leaned back in his chair and motioned for George to continue. 

“Here’s the long and the short of it. I have to work, and I will have a teaching assistant every semester. Sometimes I see great potential in my assistants, and that will mean putting extra work into developing a mentoring relationship with them. That doesn’t put them on the same level as you, Alex. You are my son. Do you understand me?”

Alex’s eyes burned. He nodded. 

“Good. Do you think it might be a good idea for me to come into one or two of your therapy sessions with you soon, so we can work out a few kinks? It’s been awhile since we’ve gone together, since right after Martha died.”

“Yeah,” Alex croaked, leaning forward to put his head in his hands. 

“Okay. Thank you. Next: just because you’re not going into law doesn’t mean that I’m not fiercely proud of you, and you know this. I tell you this all the time. Maybe it was thoughtless of me to use certain language when talking about Aaron, but even if he does carry on a portion of my legacy in law, that is one small part of my life. The rest? All of that belongs to you. All of it.”

There was no question posed, but Alex nodded, feeling smaller even as he felt comfort wash over him, the echo of his outburst playing in his mind. 

“Now, before we leave and you have free reign to talk or yell at me to your heart’s content on the drive back to the house, I’m going to tell you something, and you’re not going to feel good about it.” George’s voice had taken on an edge of caution, and Alex let out a strangled laugh. 

“Can’t say I’m feelin’ all that great about myself anyway, Pops, so lay it on me.”

A pause, and then. “Son, Aaron’s parents died when he was a boy.”

Alex’s head shot up, out of his hands. “ _What?_ ”

George didn’t say anything else. He didn’t try to comfort Alex, or make him feel any less shitty for what he’d done, what he’d said. 

_Not that it would work. I am a selfish, thoughtless, self-centered, childish fucking asshole._

“Oh, shit,” Alex whispered. 

“Oh, shit,” George agreed, and he reached over the table to wipe away an errant tear from Alex’s cheek. 

*

Alex went to the coffee shop every day after that. 

He sat at the closest table to the door, sliding into the chair that gave him the clearest view of everyone who stepped inside. He was there when Angelica or Thomas arrived in the mornings to open, even when John wasn’t working, and he left when Pegs or Herc closed down for the night. Nobody said a word to him about why he was spending sixteen hours a day at Rewind, handing over ludicrous amounts of money for coffee and pastries, or having food delivered via DoorDash once or twice a day, depending on how hungry he was and how much energy his anger or frustration toward himself or Aaron was burning up on a given day. 

Because for two weeks, there wasn’t a single word from Aaron. 

“I’m not giving you his number, Hamilton, and if you ask me one more time I’m going to start telling everyone who comes in here that you voted for Trump in 2016!” Jefferson eventually snapped at him after the fourth morning of begging and pleading. Peggy didn’t have his number, neither did John, and Hercules had declared himself Switzerland. 

Angelica was Alex’s best chance. 

“Please, Angelica? What’s the problem with me wanting to apologize to him for being a royal, grade-A asshole? Or hey, if this is an issue with sharing personal information, just text him for me? Ask him to come here, or ask him if I can have his number?”

“Alexander, first of all, get your ass off of the counter, that’s a health code violation and I don’t give a damn how pretty you are, you are not worth a write up. Thank you, don’t do that shit again. God.” Angelica put herself at eye level with Alex where he leaned over the counter, staring directly into him until he squirmed with discomfort. 

“I’ll let him know you’re groveling. That’s the best I can do.”

_Fuck_. “Thanks, Angelica.”

“It’s more than you deserve, so.” She shrugged and continued to assemble the espresso machine for the day. After a moment, however, she sighed and offered, more kindly: “You’re welcome.”

Two days later, Alex met the third Schuyler sister. 

She pulled up a chair at Alex’s table, wrapped in a soft blue sweater and with the friendliest smile that Alex had ever seen in his entire life. He thought about asking her to leave, but knew instantly that he wouldn’t, noting the benefits of being able to weaponize such a pretty, open face. 

“Hi. I’m Eliza Schuyler.”

Alex cocked his head. “Schuyler?”

She nodded. “That’s right. The only sister not cut out for the coffee business. You must be Alexander.”

He hesitated. “I must be Alexander because?”

She laughed. “You’re exactly as he described you. Even down to your flyaways.” Eliza motioned to Alex’s hair, which he instantly tried to smooth down. 

“Someone sent you?” he asked, perplexed. 

Eliza nodded. “Aaron.”

Alex exhaled, hard and loud. He opened his mouth and found that he didn’t know what to say. 

Eliza rescued him from having to say anything. “He thought you might like to spend some time visiting where I work. He likes to come and visit me there, every now and then. He used to come all the time back when we first met through Angelica and Peggy; I’m always happy to see him still make time to pop in, even though he’s the busiest person I’ve ever actually met.” Eliza smiled, and Alex’s chest tightened with both envy and gratitude as he listened to her speak, this stranger who traded affection, history, _time_ with Aaron. 

“What is it that you do, exactly?”

Eliza stood up and pushed in her chair. “Are you free right now? It’s just a few blocks.”

Feeling just a touch closer to Aaron than he had in weeks, Alex held the door open for Eliza when they left.


	5. Aaron

The day that Aaron stepped back into Rewind, it wasn’t planned. He’d woken with his alarm and, when he’d reached over for his earbuds with the intent to hole himself up in his room for the day to study as he had been since December, he’d grabbed the handle of his bag instead. He allowed old muscle memory to carry him through the process of shrugging on his worn and patched coat rather than the one he wore to school and the firm, let his feet slip into his running shoes for the hike to the café. 

It was the first week of March, a bright Tuesday morning. He tried hard not to think about it being a Tuesday as his legs carried him on the familiar path, focusing instead on other musings: what kind of tea would they have? Would they still even have tea? He spoke with Angelica and Herc frequently, and had dinner with the Schuyler sisters a few times a month, but he hadn’t thought to ask. They hadn’t thought to mention. 

Aaron breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the heavy glass jar ( _ his _ heavy glass jar) sitting in its place at the end of the bar, the first thing in his line of sight when he opened the door and looked around. Everything looked relatively the same, save for a new display case squeezed into the slight space between the end of the bar and the wall; Aaron allowed himself a second to bemoan the loss of ease that the space had allowed when he’d wanted to lean against the wall to chat with Peggy, or John. He couldn’t feel too badly about the new addition however, he figured, as he moved forward in the line and took in the sight. John’s pastries were glowing beneath the glass of the case, well lit and with room to be spread out and displayed. Aaron’s mouth watered;  _ damn, I missed everything about this place. _

“Aaron!” Angelica’s voice, obviously surprised, drew his attention to the front counter. “Aah, it’s so good to see your face!”

Aaron smiled and shook his head. “I was just at your place on Sunday, Angelica.”

“Not the same, spoilsport. This place hasn’t been the same without someone brooding in the corner all the time.” Angelica winked at him as she grabbed a clean mug from a tilted stack and moved toward the percolator. 

“Now, Angie, you know that’s not true,” Thomas said, turning the corner out of the stockroom. He shot a grin at Aaron. “We have a new resident brooder. Hamilton just broods … obnoxiously.” Thomas’ gaze flitted over to the corner of the lobby; he made a face before turning back to Aaron. “It’ll be good to have you back, Burr, maybe get things back to normal around here.”

Determined not to swing his head around to follow Thomas’ trajectory, Aaron simply continued to smile. “I gotta say, I never thought I’d hear you be so welcoming, Thomas.”

Thomas scoffed and rang up Aaron’s order as Angelica leaned around him, placing Aaron’s mug of water on the countertop. Thomas held his hand out for Aaron’s money. “Don’t get used to it, I’m sure the novelty will wear off soon enough.” Aaron picked up his mug and faux-toasted to Thomas before taking a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, and turning around to face the back of the café. 

Alexander and Eliza were sitting at Aaron’s usual table, and they were both looking at Aaron as though hanging in a state of suspended animation. Alexander’s mouth hung slightly open and his eyes were as round as Aaron had ever seen them, and  _ oh, his hair is so long, when did he start wearing it down like that? _

Aaron waited for the sting, the burn of Alexander’s words to rush back to him, seeing him there again, after so much time spent avoiding him, and more time spent … well. 

Eliza, turned in her seat, was smiling at him, welcoming and warm, and Aaron fixated on her as he stepped forward, blindly gripped a tea sachet, and determinedly continued toward his dear friend and his … and Alexander. 

“Aaron!” Eliza greeted him, standing to wrap him in a hug that he was able to only half-heartedly return without spilling boiling water all over her. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you until Friday. Wow, three times in one week, I feel spoiled.” She pulled back in time to see Aaron roll his eyes.

“You and your sisters act like I’m some kind of hermit that comes out once a decade,” Aaron said. 

“Oh, is that not the case?” 

Aaron turned toward Alexander, who was looking at him with a hesitant, teasing expression. Aaron’s pulse quickened. 

“Hi,” Alexander said. 

“Hello, Alexander.”

“Aaron, I’ll see you on Friday,” Eliza said smoothly, reaching over to pluck her coat from the back of her chair. “Alex, Jacob’s been asking after you for days, you know.”

“Eliza, you don’t have to—”

“Aw, hell, that’s right, I told him—”

Aaron and Alexander paused, and Eliza shrugged on her coat as she rolled her eyes. “Aaron, I have to get to work anyway. Really, you couldn’t have had better timing. And Alex, yeah, I know, you told him that you’d drop off a few books. Can you make it happen sooner rather than later?”

“Yep. Tell him I’ll come by tomorrow morning?”

“Great, thank you.” Eliza said. She pecked Aaron on the cheek, stepped around him lightly and leaned down to do the same for Alexander. “Talk to each other; I’ll know if you don’t!” she said before smiling sweetly and stepping away. They watched her wave at Thomas and Angelica before she left the café, a moment of silence following her departure before Alexander snorted. 

“Do you think she knows how terrifying she is?” he asked. 

Aaron nodded. “Oh, absolutely. She’s a Schuyler; they know what they’re about.” Aaron motioned toward the empty seat across from Alexander. “Would it be alright if I—”

“Yes! Yeah, please. Yes.” Alexander cut him off. Aaron chuckled at his eagerness as he sat, resting his mug on the table and dropping his bag on the floor beside him. He decided to launch into conversation, the temptation to go back into hiding strong beneath his surface. 

“So, Jacob. You must still be visiting the orphanage with Eliza, then.”

Alexander, at the very mention, became _ radiant _ . “Fuck yes, I am. I try to make it once a week, more if I can, but I missed last week because of a deadline at work. The kids think it’s so cool that I’m a writer who has his name in the paper and in journals and shit. Well, okay, a few of them do, and the other ones don’t really care at all, or they’re too young and just like that I do stupid voices when I bring books with me to read. Jacob, though, man. That kid’s got crazy skills. Have you ever read anything that he’s written? I can’t believe nobody’s ever told him to submit anywhere, but Eliza didn’t know to do that and nobody else there did, either, and none of his teachers have paid any kind of fucking attention, so I’m taking him a few books that show him how to write strong cover letters and pitches and wow, I am rambling. Yes, Aaron, I’m still visiting the orphanage. Have been ever since, hell. January, since Eliza—” Alexander stumbled over his words, and Aaron had forgotten just how quickly his face reddened when he blushed. “Since you asked Eliza to take me.”

Aaron leaned back in his chair. “I’m glad that you went with her. I wasn’t sure that you would.” A second passed. Two. “Thank you for calling me Aaron.”

Alexander, an incredulous look on his face, blinked. “I,” he said, and stopped. He made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat as he tucked his loose hair behind his ears, only to have it immediately fall back out of place. “I don’t know where to start. Now. With you.”

Aaron went about starting to steep his tea as he considered, aware of the table vibrating beneath his palms, a result of Alexander’s knee bouncing up and down below. “You seem nervous,” he finally said. 

Alexander laughed. “Sure. Let’s call it that.”

“What else might you call it?”

“Surprised? Shocked? I’d given up on thinking that you were ever going to come back, like, a month ago. Thought I’d fucked up just enough to keep you away for good.”

Aaron’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow. You really think you wield a lot of power, don’t you?”

Alex’s mouth opened and closed in quick succession; a fish out of water. “I—what does that mean?”

“I admit,” Aaron started, “I really didn’t want to see you—”

“Can’t blame you there—”

“Alexander.”

“Sorry.” Alexander clamped his mouth shut and had the decency to look sheepish. 

“—and then a partner walked away from my apprenticeship firm. It was a logistical nightmare; they were lead on a third of the firm’s cases. Me and all of the other legal aids were there around the clock for weeks. The couch in my supervisor’s office is still probably molded to my body.” Aaron smiled, and continued in a way that he hoped wouldn’t come across as cruel. “Not everything is about you. And that’s not a terrible thing. Not everything is about me, either.”

Alexander sighed, but he didn’t scoff, or stand up to leave. He bowed his head lower, his long hair curtaining his features away from Aaron’s sight. 

“I know,” he said. “Everything from before was about literally everything else in my life, and not about you. I was being a shit.” Alexander cleared his throat and wriggled in his seat. “I don’t really want to get into it, but I’d been trying my hand at this job out in Jersey for about two years and I fucking hated it. I’d just gotten back toward the end of summer, moved in with John to be close to my dad because I’d really, really fucking missed him, and then, well.” Alexander shrugged without looking up. “I’m sorry I took it out on you. We’re figuring our shit out. I’m figuring  _ my _ shit out.” 

Aaron’s chest burned with the breath that he couldn’t release; it was more, so much more than he’d expected. There were gaps that he didn’t need filled, because he’d been there for the rest of it, for all of the late nights with Washington in his office, sharing dinners, making phone calls, lapping up every opportunity to learn from him that he could. Every moment with Aaron was a moment away from Alexander, and at the core of the thing, Aaron could understand the desperate ache of missing one’s parents. 

“Did he tell you?” Aaron asked. “About me. About my parents.”

Alexander nodded and raised his head. All of the air left Aaron then, at the regret that was written all over Alexander; in his eyes, the pull of his mouth, the wringing of his hands. 

“Yeah. Right after. I should probably say I’m sorry about saying shit about your parents, too, and assuming things, but saying sorry doesn’t even feel anywhere near adequate, you know? Especially when your _ ridiculously selfless ass _ had me all figured out and sent Eliza after me. Never in a thousand fuckin’ years would I have thought that spending time at an orphanage would be anything other than goddamn depressing, but.” 

“But it’s not,” Aaron supplied.

“No,” Alexander said, meeting his eye, half of his face shielded by his unruly locks. “It’s not.” 

Aaron leaned forward across the table and used his fingers to push Alexander’s hair away from his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. 

“Apology accepted,” Aaron said, wrapping both of his hands around his mug. “And you’re welcome, by the way.”

Alexander, eyes round and filled with wonder, breathed out a huff of laughter. 

Aaron smiled as he took his first sip of tea.


	6. Alex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I know nothing about the bar exam or becoming a lawyer.
> 
> 2\. When I read this chapter to my wife, her response was "wow, that is the mildest flirting ever, what is this, 1776?" When my beta read it, his response was "DAMN THAT'S SOME BOLD FLIRTING." I'm really, really curious what y'all think about the flirt-level here, haha.
> 
> One chapter to go, should come up tomorrow! You're all lovely ♥
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> -EP

“I’m going to fail the bar exam and then I’m going to have to work here, with _ Thomas _ ,” Aaron griped, all but throwing himself into his seat. He hadn’t yet bothered to stop at the counter for his tea, choosing rather to pillow his head into his folded arms on the table. 

From the next table over, Alex made a valiant effort to hold in his laughter as he watched Aaron’s dramatics unfold. “What has you convinced of your impending failure today?” he asked. “Also, I have to say that you working here wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to you. You’d get a 10% discount which would save you, what, like seventeen cents a day? You could do worse in life.”

Aaron grumbled into his arms. 

“You’re really going to have to speak up there, Aaron.”

Aaron lifted his head. “I missed two questions during my prep course this morning,” he said. “I’m a month out. That’s just not … I can’t accept that.” His forehead went back to its nestling spot in the crook of his elbow, and Alex considered. 

_ Do I toss some words of encouragement over there and remind him that he’s a human being, which is what everyone would say to me if I was bitching myself out like that, or do I lament and tell him that I get it, that I’d be a fucking mess too? Do I go buy him a scone? John made the lemon lavender ones that I know he really loves … would he hit me if I offered him a shoulder rub? Probably.  _

The issue — well, one of Alex’s many amongst his own current shit storms, with April bringing deadlines and attempts to go with Eliza to visit the kids as much as possible because Easter was right around the corner and  _ holidays _ in an  _ orphanage _ , fuck — was that Alex was under the impression that things were tentatively on solid ground with Aaron for the first time since they’d met, what felt like a lifetime ago, back in September. The process of clawing their way up the silt-slick sides of the hole they’d found themselves in to get to that solid ground had been wrought with slip-ups over the last month; as Alex was coming to realize, though outwardly opposite in many ways, he and Aaron struggled mostly to overcome their detrimental similarities. 

Since the moment that Aaron had slipped into his periphery and made a home there, Alex had suspected that there was potential for them to be more than simply acquaintances who shared space in a coffee shop. Alex was starting to recognize that his suspicions were more truth than musings. Aaron’s intelligence and wit, when paired with Alex’s own, were forces to be reckoned with; what Aaron lacked in worldliness or scrappiness, Alex made up for in spades, and when Alex found himself impulsive and faltering against the smooth, controlled guile of Thomas or anyone else who decided to engage him in a debate, Aaron stepped in to fill the gaps, graceful and cunning. 

But when they disagreed with each other? When Alex’s loud, unregulated, passionate retorts were met with Aaron’s placid, fact-driven, and stoic responses, the quickness with which the torch of frustration could alight and burn between them was staggering. It had been more than once since their initial placement of foundation that one of them had hastily tossed their things into their bag and left Rewind, only to come back in a span of time falling anywhere on a spectrum between a few hours or a day. Never more than a day went by before they would return, Alex with a shy, self-deprecating grin and easy apologies on his lips, or Aaron with a rigid spine, words of self-admonishment and promises to try harder to simply let Alex  _ be _ . 

And then there were moments like this. 

Alex could recall, so clearly, small moments of kindness offered to him by Aaron during his near breaking point in the fall, in spite of Alex having been a complete wrecking ball of hot and cold confusion. Alex had been privy to witnessing just how driven of a man Aaron was, had a front row seat to most of Aaron’s last year of law school. Their approach to work, learning and meeting their goals differed greatly, but Alex knew that he would be hard pressed to meet someone with as much a hunger for success, a hunger to make a difference as he had, than Aaron Burr. With that hunger, that  _ starvation _ , came anxiety, worry, sleeplessness, overcompensating, pushing himself too  _ hard _ , too  _ far _ , _ too much _ … 

Alex told his therapist that he feared he was projecting himself and his own tendencies onto Aaron, because he wanted to believe that he could empathize with him, that he could help Aaron in the ways that he had been learning how to help himself over the years. His therapist had challenged him to consider whether or not he actually wanted to see these struggles for Aaron, and Alex’s vehement reaction in opposition of the notion led him to paying closer attention to what he was actually noticing about Aaron, to the things that Aaron didn’t say. These were the things that spoke volumes. 

When Aaron wore mismatched socks, he was exhausting himself. When he had to actually look at his hand slipping into the jar of tea sachets, he was too tired, too clumsy to trust himself to reach blindly. When his phone ringer volume was up instead of on vibrate, he was on edge about being needed at the firm, which meant inherently more stress. He either held himself ramrod straight when he was studying under pressure, to prevent himself from going lax, or there were long stretches where he looked precisely as he did right then, with his head buried in his arms. Alex did his best to do small things, to offer small kindnesses as Aaron had done; make Aaron’s tea, keep Thomas far away and otherwise engaged, ask John to bake something the next day that Aaron liked, remind Aaron to drink plenty of water, or explain how the restorative properties of sleep led to higher test scores. 

This was the third day in a row that Aaron had actually told Alex outright what was causing him stress. Alex knew he shouldn’t feel the rush of adrenaline that he did when Aaron handed over these pieces of himself, but he was powerless to help it. He cherished them. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve them. And … he didn’t know what to do with them. Initially, he’d given Aaron a few studying tips, and had even suggested that Aaron call George to talk about the bar, which Aaron had done immediately and with so much gratitude that Alex was horrified for a moment that Aaron might actually cry. 

Alex didn’t want to keep offering the same support, the same support that anyone could offer to anybody else. He and Aaron were tentatively on solid ground, but Alex didn’t love ambiguity. He wanted to build, to strengthen, to form and solidify. 

Alex stood up and moved to Aaron’s table. 

Aaron made a small noise of acknowledgement and raised his head just enough to prop his chin up on his forearm that remained resting on the tabletop. Alex mirrored him, crossing his arms on the table in front of him and leaning forward to match Aaron’s posture. The table was small; Alex could feel Aaron’s warm breath on his chin. 

“What are you doing,” Aaron asked, lacking inflection. 

“I thought it would be obvious. I’m pouting with you.”

Aaron’s lips twitched. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Well, good, that also makes two of us.”

“Shouldn’t you be nice to me right now? Isn’t that what friends are supposed to do?”

Alex’s heart fluttered in his chest. “It was two questions, Aaron. The point of taking the prep class is to learn what you don’t know so that you know what you need to learn.” Alex paused. “Dumbass.”

Aaron smiled. Not for the first time, hell, not for the first time that day, Alex thought of everything he would give to be able to bridge the distance between them. 

“You’re a terrible friend, Alexander,” Aaron said.

“Aah, but you see, you say it so  _ fondly _ ,” Alex joked, and he leaned back, unwilling to torture himself further by allowing them to remain so close. “It’s nice to hear that you count me as a friend, though. I’ll take that as a win for the day.”

Aaron sighed and tilted his head, resting the side of his face on his folded arms while holding sight on Alex. “Ridiculous.”

Alex, for as much as he wanted Aaron to never stop looking at him the way that he was, n _ eeded _ for him to stop. “Hey, let me show you something,” he blurted. “Give me your hand.”

_ You are a fucking idiot. Dr. Lewins is going to have to break her therapist code and actually laugh at you. “We were too close so I panicked and decided that the best way to distract everyone involved would be to ask him for his hand. Did I do it right?” Christ, Hamilton. _

Aaron, blessedly, didn’t question Alex. He sat upright and stretched his left hand across the expanse of the small table, palm up and expectant. Alex breathed and maneuvered Aaron’s hand gently, turning it over palm down. Alex used his thumb and index finger to sandwich the webbing between the same digits on Aaron’s hand. 

“This,” Alex said quietly, afraid of doing anything to break Aaron’s easy trust, “is a pressure point. Like hell if I remember what it’s called, but in a bind it helps me out if I just, ah, kind of squeeze and massage it a bit, a few seconds at a time. It’s supposed to help with headaches too, but I learned it as a way to help with stress. It’s not magic, but, I just thought.” Alex didn’t know what he thought. Aaron was observing him, curious, and not speaking a word. Self-doubt started to creep in at the edges and Alex opened his mouth to laugh it off with second-nature dismissal. 

“Will you show me?” Aaron asked. 

“‘Course,” Alex said in a rush. He cleared his throat and looked down to where he was already gripping Aaron, and used his other hand to cup the rest of Aaron’s hand. It was completely unnecessary. Aaron didn’t pull away. 

“Let me know if I hurt you,” Alex said, and he compressed Aaron’s pressure point, making a circular motion with his thumb and finger as he did so. He counted to five in his head before letting up. “Okay?”

Aaron smiled. “Yeah. Thank you. I’ll keep this in mind, doesn’t seem too hard to do myself.”

Alex shook his head. “Super simple. It’s the only exercise like this that I bother with, it’s easy to be discreet and not look weird pressing on your forehead or foot or some shit in public. Everything’s stressful enough without having everyone looking at you.”

“I’m looking at you, Alexander.” 

Aaron squeezed Alex’s hand and Alex shivered as the tips of Aaron’s fingertips brushed the top of his knuckles when Aaron disentangled and pulled back. 

Alex, knees bouncing beneath the table and exhilaration sparking like a live wire within him, didn’t know how to respond, didn’t have time to choose the perfect words. 

“Lookin’ right back at you,” Alex said, settling on honesty. He breathed a sigh of relief when Aaron smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. 

“Then you must see how thirsty I am,” Aaron said. “Go, be a good friend and fetch me my tea? I’m in far too delicate a state for the endeavor.”

Alex let out a bark of laughter. “Aaron Burr has jokes.” He stood and pushed his chair in. “You’re lucky I like you, Burr.”

“Yeah, yeah,  _ Hamilton _ ,” Aaron chided, and Alex winked before turning to walk away. “I know I am.”

Alex took his time to choose the tea that he knew Aaron liked best.


	7. Aaron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire story was built around this chapter. I've wanted to write a one-off re: the overarching plot of this chapter ever since reading some wonderful fics based off of a similar trope/prompt. 
> 
> TW for depiction of anxiety attack/trauma response. All ends well and on a positive note.
> 
> This is the end! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy ♥
> 
> -EP

The sky, angry and growing darker by the second, was in direct opposition to Aaron’s mood as he stepped onto the bus. His shoulders were held high rather than slouching, and though he hadn’t been sleeping well he thrummed with an energy that felt damn near unfamiliar to him. Even with strangers pressed against both sides, boxing him in, and the loudness that came along with public transit bombarding him from all directions, he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. It was a useless endeavor, the endorphins coursing through him now that the months, the  _ years _ of pressure had been lifted from his shoulders.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and powered it on, intent to text Alexander. He was the first person that Aaron wanted to tell. 

Lightning from outside illuminated the bus, followed closely by a crack of thunder, as Aaron composed in his head the message that he might want to send to Alexander. 

_ I just finished, I'm heading to the café now.  _ Or–

_ I can’t believe I just took the bar exam. I can’t believe it’s over.  _ Or–

_ The exam’s over. Thank you for your help in keeping me sane over the last few weeks.  _ Or–

_ I just finished the bar, and I’m pretty sure I passed. I want to celebrate with you. _

Aaron’s mind went blank when he pulled up his texting app and noticed that he had a number of unread texts. The first was from Alexander, two minutes after his testing start time, apologizing for sending a late text but encouraging him to ‘make the bar your bitch!’ Aaron’s grin grew wider, and he moved on to his next slew of messages, multiple in a row from Hercules.   
  


**4:07 pm:** Hey i know youre testing. Good luck and all. You heading here when youre done?

**4:32 pm:** Alex is bein weird and i think you should come here when youre finished

**4:49 pm:** He said your exam ends by five but told me not to bother you. Figured i already did so it doesnt count. He keeps sayin hes fine but hes kinda actin sad and sad Alex is just wrong

**5:13 pm:** Okay Aaron goddammit idk what to do with him but i think he might be having like a panic attack? I tried to text John but hes working his other job  
  


Aaron, nearly dizzy from the whiplash of his mood shifting from jubilant to concerned, checked the time on his phone. Herc’s last text had been sent five minutes ago. Aaron’s heart started to hammer, and he quickly held the phone up to his ear to call Alexander. 

He let the phone ring until Alexander’s voicemail picked up before he touched the end call button and immediately opened John’s contact information. 

John answered his cell on the third ring. “Aaron? Hey, man, I’m at—”

“Did you not see the texts from Hercules?” Aaron asked immediately. 

“Uh, no? I’m at work, only knew you were calling because the vibration, you know? Why, what does Herc need?”

“Something’s up with Alexander. I don’t know what, and I’m still about five minutes from Rewind, but it sounds like he’s having some kind of attack, like an anxiety attack? Hercules said he was acting off, and then started to panic.” Aaron opened his mouth to continue, to ask John if he had any clue what was happening, when John groaned loudly into the phone. Aaron thought he heard the smacking sound of flesh on flesh, and could build the visual for himself of John hitting his palm to his forehead. 

“Goddammit. Yeah, okay. You said you're heading there?” John asked. 

It was somewhat placating to Aaron that he didn’t sound overly worried; merely resigned, which stirred a feeling within Aaron that he couldn’t quite place. Something closer to sorrow.

“I’m two stops away,” Aaron answered.

“Good. He should be okay, but will you just … sit with him? Or take him into the stockroom or something? He might be too prideful to say anything, because have you met Alex? But I think just having someone with him will help.” John paused. “I’m glad it’s you who’s gonna be there. I think he will be, too.”

Aaron massaged his temple with his free hand. “Are you being intentionally vague?”

“I mean, yes? But also no? It’s not my place to tell you what’s up with Alex, just that I think he’ll be aces after a bit. Just call me back if he isn’t, or tell that punk to pick up the phone and call me himself if he needs me, okay?”

An acidic spike of possessiveness drilled through Aaron at the thought of Alexander  _ needing  _ John, at the thought that Aaron himself would go to Alexander and not be enough, not be someone who could help him when he required it. He swallowed and chased the feeling down, shaking his head as though he could shame himself into making it go away.

“Okay. Thanks, John.”

“You got it, bud. I’ll put my ringer on if you need me.” When John hung up Aaron breathed, and reminded himself who John was.  _ He’s the sweetest guy you’ve ever met, and he’s Alexander’s best friend. Stop. Being. Irrational. Alexander does not belong to you. _

Aaron compressed the webbing between his thumb and forefinger, and breathed. 

When he stepped into Rewind less than five minutes later, he was soaking wet. The short, half-block jaunt from the bus stop to the café had been enough for the downpour to drench him, his clothes sticking to his skin uncomfortably, his socks damp from where the rain had snuck inside the tops of his shoes. Aaron ran his hand over the dome of his head to dispel as much of the rainwater as he could before taking a look around. 

Just as he feared, the café was  _ packed _ . Every table was filled, there were patrons sitting in the few mismatched barstools at the espresso bar, and a few folks were standing and talking with their coffee, watching the storm through the windows. It was always busier when it rained; the city streets were never empty, never quiet, and Aaron knew that every bookstore, coffee shop, restaurant, etc. would be filled with people waiting for the storm to pass before continuing to make their way home during rush hour. 

Aaron made eye contact with Hercules as he weaved between customers in line. Herc, ever cool under pressure, moved at his usual smooth pace, and jerked his head toward the back of the lobby as he pumped shots of flavoring into a to-go cup. 

“Glad to see you, man. He’s at your table.”

Aaron nodded and continued to head that way, not surprised to hear where he’d find Alexander. His pulse pounded in his ears as his own anxiety ratcheted, and he became keenly aware of just how worried he was about Alexander the moment before he came into view. 

Alexander sat alone at the table. His laptop was open in front of him, an empty cup of coffee to the side. He was wearing his huge, clunky headphones, the only thing helping to tame his hopelessly messy hair, which hung loose over the shoulders of Aaron’s favorite hoodie of his, dark green and soft looking. Alexander was staring, unblinking, out of the window, his arms wrapped around himself. 

Alexander was so still that Aaron couldn’t tell if he was breathing. And Aaron understood Herc’s texts with complete clarity. This was off, this was  _ wrong _ . Alexander should never be motionless and ashen, like rock, when he was always golden and pulsing, like the sun. 

Aaron thought about sitting across from Alexander at the table, but the distance from one side of the table to the other looked daunting, and so Aaron took the chair and dragged it to the corner of the table nearest Alexander instead. He sat down and cleared his throat, noting that Alexander hadn’t moved. 

“Alexander?” Aaron said softly, feeling silly for not wanting to spook him by speaking too loudly when the sounds of everyone around them were nearly deafening, and when it was likely Alexander’s music was drowning him out anyway. When he received no response, Aaron reached up and rested his hand on Alexander’s shoulder and tried again, louder this time, tapping once on the earcup of the headphones. “Alexander.”

“Hey, Aaron,” Alexander whispered, his eyes remaining trained on the world outside.

Aaron stopped just short of asking if everything was okay; he knew it wasn’t. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Alexander turned to look at him then. He simply looked, holding Aaron’s gaze. His eyes were dull, haunted. Aaron shivered, and squeezed Alexander’s shoulder lightly, encouraging. 

“There’s nothing to ta—”

A burst of lightning brightened the inside of the café, and Alexander swallowed his words, gulping down a lungful of air after them. He screwed his eyes closed and Aaron heard him begin to count under his breath, shaky, jolted French. “Un, deux, trois, quatre—”

Alexander’s body jerked when he startled as the trailing thunder boomed outside, and Aaron stood up from his chair. Keeping one hand on Alexander’s shaking shoulder, he saved the document open on the laptop and quickly closed it before haphazardly shoving it into the open mouth of the messenger bag on the ground. He slung the bag over his shoulder and moved his hand down to grip Alexander’s upper arm. 

“Stand up. Come on.” Alexander didn’t move, just shook his head, eyes still closed. Aaron felt his own anxieties building –  _ don’t know how to help, don’t know what he needs, not the right person for this, for him _ – and he leaned down to Alexander’s covered ear. “I called John, he told me what to do, so if you don’t trust me, trust him, okay? Come with me.” He tightened his grip and pulled, and this time Alexander moved with him. 

Aaron didn’t allow himself to overthink. He took Alexander’s hand and pulled him along, taking small steps through the throng of bodies in the cramped space of the café in order to get to the other side of the line. Hercules didn’t bat an eye at them when Aaron swung open the half-gate to go behind the counter; he simply stretched himself over and punched in a code on the handle of the stockroom door. It beeped green and opened easily for Aaron, and he wasn’t all that surprised to find an ache blossom in his throat at Herc’s easy trust and kindness. 

The stockroom was barely larger than a broom closet. With all of the cold-goods held in the refrigeration units beneath the espresso bar and sinks up front, Aaron figured he should be grateful that they hadn’t stepped inside of a cooler, but all the same the room was chilly. It wasn’t his first time back there; he’d been recruited by Angelica once to help unbox a shipment of new coffee beans when the-guy-before-Thomas had called off of his shift that morning (his name was Charles, but he hadn’t lasted long and Aaron joined in on the habit of never mentioning him again once he’d been fired). 

“The coffee beans are finicky,” Angelica had told him as he helped her move around stock on the cramped shelves, after he’d asked about the cool air blowing from the vent in the ceiling. “They can’t get too warm so we can’t just leave them out on the counters or shelves out there, but we can’t toss them in the fridges either because they’ll just soak up the smells and taste of whatever's in there. You gotta treat the coffee right, and that means keepin’ it somewhere dark and cool.”

Aaron had winked at her. “Dark and cool. Just like me.”

“Burr, you disgust me,” Angelica had laughed. “You wouldn’t know cool if it hit you in the face. Hand me the dark roasts next?”

Aaron was thinking of that conversation when the wall of cold air hit him inside the stockroom. There were no places to sit unless one of them wanted to sit on top of the metal floor-safe, and Alex looked so lost and fragile, jumping at the sound of the door closing behind him, that Aaron couldn’t let him just … stand there.

Aaron sat down on the floor and leaned back against the wall opposite the door, between the shelves. Alexander looked down at him. 

“Aaron?” he croaked. 

Aaron motioned for Alexander to sit down in front of him. “Come here. If you want to. I’m wet from the rain, and cold, but if you think it would help, I’m … I’m right here.”

The sound of thunder reverberated around them, and Alexander crumpled. 

It wasn’t graceful, and it didn’t happen the way Aaron had envisioned. He’d thought of Alexander sitting before him, back to his chest, so that Aaron could help ground him with his hands on his shoulders or his back, so that Alexander wouldn’t have to look at him if he wanted to talk. Aaron, in hindsight, figured that he should have known better. Alexander never did anything directly within the parameters of his expectations on a regular day, so why should he when he was the most terrified that Aaron had ever seen him?

Alexander dropped to his knees and scrambled toward Aaron, throwing his arms around Aaron’s neck and burying his face in the curve of Aaron’s throat. Instinct drove Aaron to wrap himself around Alexander, one arm around his middle, hand resting on his back, and the other coming up to stroke Alexander’s hair. 

Aaron decided against being patronizing, and so he didn’t shush Alexander’s whimpers as the thunder got louder and more frequent, the storm moving directly above the café. He remained quiet, steadfast and present as Alexander shook, his hot tears rolling down Aaron’s neck and soaking into the collar of his shirt beneath his coat. Only when Alexander’s breathing became rapid and shallow did Aaron break his silence, urging Alexander to breathe with him if he could, _ “in and out, there you go sweetheart, it’s nearly over, now.” _

Aaron’s legs were numb from Alexander’s weight and he was starting to tremble himself from the chill of sitting in his wet clothes by the time the storm passed, but there was no force strong enough to make him pull his fingers from Alexander’s hair, not until Alexander was ready to move. Some time after they heard the last rumble of thunder, Alexander sat up quickly, and Aaron dropped his arms to his sides. 

“Take your wet-ass coat off before you die,” Alexander said, voice raw. He used both hands to pull at the hem of his hoodie and he whipped it up and over his head before Aaron could protest, showing that he was wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt underneath. When he was finished he pushed the hair out of his face and, upon noticing that Aaron hadn’t moved, Alexander rolled his eyes and reached forward to unzip Aaron’s coat himself. 

“C’mon. I’m not going to besmirch your virtue in the stockroom of a fucking coffee house. I’m not ready to go back  _ out there _ yet, you’re freezing, I have long sleeves, let me be chivalrous.” 

Aaron took off his jacket and accepted Alexander’s hoodie. He was instantly enveloped in warmth, his senses overcome with the smell of Alexander, and his breathing hitched when he saw the way that Alexander was looking at him once he settled back against the wall. 

Alexander moved with him, taking up residence once more in his lap though he’d calmed considerably, laying his head on Aaron’s shoulder. Emboldened by the plethora of evidence presented to him over a matter of months, and the last few minutes, Aaron re-tangled his fingers in Alexander’s hair. 

Silent minutes slipped by before Alexander spoke. “George and his wife Martha adopted me when I was 17. I know he likes to talk about the red tape of adoption during his constitutional rights rambles, so I don’t know how much you know, but I know he usually doesn’t go too far into it because he respects my privacy.” Alexander started playing with the string of his hoodie on Aaron’s chest, twirling it between his fingers. “I was born in the Caribbean. I have a whole sad orphan story that we can compare sometime, if you want, no pressure. Just before I came over here, a hurricane hit St. Croix, where I was staying at the time, and—” Alexander drew in a shuddered breath. Aaron wondered if he had more to say, or if he knew how to say it. When the silence stretched, Aaron tilted his head down and brushed a kiss into Alexander’s hair. 

“Thank you for telling me,” he said evenly. “You didn’t owe it to me, but thank you anyway.”

Alexander looked up at him, and Aaron recalled the first thought he’d ever had about the man in his arms. Messy. Beautiful. 

“You called John,” Alexander said. 

Aaron nodded. 

“I was almost here,” Aaron said, “and I wanted to know what to do.”

Alexander blinked. “Thanks. I’m gonna kiss you now.”

Aaron nodded. 

Alexander kissed him sweetly, closed-mouthed and soft, but it was enough, more than enough, for Aaron to know with certainty that their months of push and pull had been worthwhile. Certainty was a terrifying concept to Aaron, typically, but in that moment, with his hands in Alexander’s hair and the most frustrating, riveting, luminescent person he’d ever met sighing into his mouth, the certainly warmed him, the frigid air around them be damned. 

When Alexander pulled back, he was smiling. It was smaller and shakier than his typical shit-eating-grin, and Aaron knew that he’d had a hell of a day; a panic attack, a reminder of his childhood, being pulled into a closet … Aaron frowned.

“Before you say anything, shit head, I know I didn’t owe you that, either,” Alexander said, “so don’t look at me all guilty like that.”

Tension eased in Aaron’s chest. “Stop that. I don’t like that you always seem to know what I’m thinking. It’s unsettling.”

Alexander grinned, more light coming alive behind his eyes. “Some people might find it romantic, you know.”

Aaron felt his mouth betray him with a smile. “Some people.” He paused. “Has this always felt as inevitable to you as it has to me?”

“What, us making out in the stockroom?”

“I’ve made a huge mistake, get off my lap.”

Alexander laughed and pressed a kiss to Aaron’s cheek. “No can do, grump. You said it, not me. We’re soulmates, or whatever incredibly sweet shit you just said. Star-crossed lovers. Romeo and Juliet.”

“Romeo and Juliet ends in a double suicide, Alexander.”

Alexander waved his hands around, dismissing Aaron’s statement. “You and your semantics. Though you’re probably kinda right. We’ll probably kill each other.” He tilted his head, considering. “Though I’ve always thought since the day we met that we’d be more likely to take over the world together.”

“Alright, Brain, but we have to get out of this closet first before world domination,” Aaron said. Alexander hummed and stood up, pulling Aaron to his feet. 

“You know you just cast yourself in the role of Pinky, right? Which, I’m not complaining, I just want this noted for posterity sake that you just verbally admitted that I’m both smarter and more capable of strategizing than you are, even though I guess Brain’s plans always fall through, which, fuck, I should have thought of—”

Aaron cut him off with a kiss. Alexander made a pleased sound in the back of his throat and pulled Aaron closer. They startled away from each other when the door to the stockroom flung open. 

At first, Hercules just stared at them, before a grin started to spread across his face. “Oh, my God, I think you just won me, like $50 from Thomas.” He reached over and grabbed a bag of coffee from the shelf. “Also, if you fuck in Angelica’s stockroom, she will literally kill both of you. Glad you’re feeling better, Alex!” He blew a kiss in their direction and shut the door.

Alexander snorted and leaned his forehead against Aaron’s collarbone. “Oh, no. Everybody is going to know that something happened within the next thirty seconds, you know that, right?”

Aaron shrugged. “Does that bother you?”

“Fuck no! I’m gonna shove you in everyone’s faces.”

Aaron groaned. “That sounds horrible. Hey?”

Alexander leaned back and met Aaron’s gaze. 

“Are you okay? That seemed like … a lot, followed by … even more of a lot.”

Alexander smiled. “Thanks for asking. Uh, I’m doing mostly okay. Storms obviously happen and I deal, but this time it just happened so fast and there were so many windows and John or Dad weren’t around. But. I’m tired, and I’ll be a bit off for the rest of the day, but I have, uh, therapy tomorrow, and that’ll help.” Alexander looked away as though embarrassed.

“That’s good. That’s really good, I’m glad to hear that,” Aaron said, sincerely. “Is there anywhere you wanna go? Home, or to your dad’s?”

Alexander nodded. “Yeah. Can you ride with me to my dad’s, maybe? Oh! And you can tell me all about the bar, shit, sorry! How did you do, did you pass? Are you a lawyer now? Is my boyfriend the next mega-hot Supreme Court justice in the making? Also please ignore how presumptuous I just was while I have a bit of a meltdown imagining how much  _ shit _ my dad is going to give me if I ever introduce you to him as my boyfriend, if that’s gonna be a thing.”

Aaron rolled his eyes and pushed open the stockroom door. “Well, let’s go find out, shall we?”


End file.
